(No) Sex and The City

A couple of times a year my two BFF’s and I get together for a ladies’ lunch.  They’re busy gals with no time to fritter, but they go out of their way to make some face time for the three of us.

It’s always special when we are all in the same room.  Join us as we dish and dine.

For privacy’s sake, let’s call my gal pals Charlotte and Miranda.  I’ll be Carrie- because I write a column, natch.  Not because I look like Sarah Jessica Parker.

(Insider’s Tony Award Lowdown:  I was this close to SJP and OMG.  Major meeskite!  I know it’s not PC to call a fellow female out on her looks, but I couldn’t get over how ugly she was in person.  Wraith-thin of course, and I’m sure, very nice, but she reminded me of the last girl to get asked to dance at the bar mitzvah.)

No one will be Samantha.

(Sidebar Rant:  I have NEVER EVER met a woman who was a “Samantha.”  And I have concluded that this caricature is just a guy in a dress.  Not meant to be based in reality at all. This lewd, round-heeled, filthy-mouthed slut who ostensibly is there to remind us that casual sex can be fun is a transvestite travesty.  Shame on all of you at HBO for glorifying this trollop and “her” message.  It made the show unwatchable for me.)

Okay.  I’ve gotten that out of my system.  Back to the lunch.

The time: Now.  The place: Cheesecake Factory, Old Orchard.

We gals convene in the parking lot.  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Charlotte:  You look so thin!

Miranda: No, YOU look so thin!

Carrie: You both look so thin!  I’m the fattest one!

Charlotte and Miranda together:  No way, Carrie.  You are SO thin.

Charlotte (sweetly):  Carrie, stop the dieting already.  You look like an old hag.

Miranda (checking her iPhone): Okay, ladies.  Enough with the pleasantries.  I’m on the clock here.  Can we go inside?

The trio adjourns and enters the Cheesecake Factory.  They go up to the host stand where there is a top-level United Nations Security Council confab as to which table they will occupy.  The hostess, standing with the gigantic menus, is ignored until a consensus can be reached.

This is a tricky, time-consuming process.  Charlotte wants something large and roomy.  A booth, of course. Miranda can not bear a draft.  Nothing with an air vent anywhere too near.  Carrie can not tolerate being near a kitchen or a bathroom.

A consensus is reached.  A plume of white smoke goes up the chimney.  The hostess is now allowed to lead the way.

The triumvirate sits down.  The lunch officially convenes.  An attentive waiter eagerly dashes over.

Waiter:  Can I get you ladies anything to drink?

Charlotte (sweetly):  I’ll have the mango-peach ice tea please.  With no mango and extra lemon.  Three ice cubes only.  Thank you.

Miranda (checking her iPhone):  I’ll have the same.  Except please hold the peach, no lemon, and one ice cube.

Carrie: A Seagram’s Diet Ginger Ale, please.

Waiter:  Huh?

Charlotte (tolerantly and sweetly):  It’s very simple.  I want you to remove any trace of mango from the ice tea.  I am allergic to mango and can’t tolerate it in any form.

Miranda (checking her iPad):  Yes, and I loathe peach.  Peach is a revolting flavor.  And too much ice gives me a headache.

Carrie: Well, lately, I’ve changed over to Seagram’s Diet Ginger Ale.  It’s great.  No dark color to stain my teeth, no caffeine, no…

Charlotte (sweetly):  Who cares, Carrie?  Just order your usual damn Diet Coke.  We’re bored already.

The waiter scurries away to do what he can.

Charlotte (sweetly):  Let’s get down to business.  Carrie, what did you think of North Korea’s decision to sit down with Moscow and discuss ending its atomic program?

Carrie:  Huh?

Charlotte (sweetly):  Kim Kye-gwan is going to meet with Vladimir Titov and Igor Morgulov to resume the six-party talks.  It’s simple.  And here, all this time, I thought of you as educated.  What do you think will happen, Miranda?

Miranda (checking her Blackberry):  I’m much more concerned that the NSA has been spying on us.  Thank goodness Edward Snowden leaked those classified documents.  Aren’t I right, Carrie?

Carrie:  Huh?

The waiter returns with the drink order.

Waiter (eagerly):  Are you ladies ready to order now?

Charlotte (sweetly):  Please don’t rush us.  We have not had one moment to look at the menu.  We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.  Now be on your way. Thank you.

The waiter scurries off.

Charlotte resumes the leadership role.

Charlotte (sweetly):  Carrie is hopeless at understanding current affairs.  All she cares about is dogs.  And that dreary blog.  We can’t ask her anything of consequence, can we, Miranda?

Miranda (checking her Samsung Galaxy 4): Total bore, I agree.  But I beg to differ on that last topic.  I like dogs.

Charlotte (sweetly):  Ugh.  Spare me.  They’re untidy and don’t go with my decor.  Why would any civilized person want one?

Carrie:  Oh, I don’t know about that.  My Scotties were so darling and…

Charlotte (sweetly):  Enough already.  Now what are we going to do about the Syrian army launching that offensive in Homs?

Carrie:  Huh?

Charlotte (sweetly):  Troops loyal to President Bashar al-Assad launched a military offensive last Saturday against rebel-held areas.  Jets and mortars pounded the rebel territory and soldiers attacked the district of Khaldiyah.  However did you miss this, Carrie?  And I thought you were supposed to be so well-read.  What do you read all day? Mad Magazine?

The waiter returns.  He is sweating slightly.

Waiter (eagerly):  Can I take your orders, now, ladies?

Charlotte (sweetly and without giving a glance to the giant menu):  I’ll have the egg-white omelet.  With a side of broiled tomato.  And tell the chef to hold the egg-whites.  Thank you.

Miranda (checking her iPad mini):  I’ll have the same.  With an order of no toast.

Waiter (sweating slightly more): Huh?

Carrie:  And I’ll have the Skinnylicious Cobb Salad.  With the vinaigrette and Thousand Island dressing, please.  I just love two salad dressings.  It makes me feel like…

Charlotte (sweetly):  Thousand Island?  Really, Carrie.  Well, I don’t have to worry about you being too thin for much longer.  You keep up that hog sty behavior and soon you’l be as big as a house.  And why don’t you ever drink water?  Your skin looks like a dried-out apple core.

Carrie:  I don’t like the taste of water.  It…

Charlotte (sweetly):  Who cares.  Let’s move on, shall we.  Next topic.  Public approval of Brazilian President Rouseff’s government has suffered a steep drop since massive protests broke out across the country. Where do you stand on this issue, Carrie?  Are you pro or anti-Dilma?

Carrie:  Huh?

Miranda (checking her Apple TV):  I’ve got to make tracks.  Waiter, check please.  I’ve got it, girls. This is on me

Charlotte (sweetly):  Like hell it is.  My turn.

They wrestle for the check that the now-terrified waiter has sent over by carrier pigeon.

Carrie:  Can I leave the tip?

The curtain gently comes down as Charlotte and Miranda battle to the death over the check.

Carrie slinks away unnoticed to return to work on her blog.

She does not leave the tip.